Posted on: 2015-11-03 by Guest

A muffled scream shattered the silence of night. I awoke, ready to challenge whatever villain had caused it. I instinctively contorted myself towards the window to find the source of the danger. The full moon's light illuminated the entire yard. In moments I scanned the backyard, illuminated by the full moon, from the corn fields on the left to the stairs that led up to our terrace, right next to my room. My eyes latched onto a figure just yards from the stairs. It moved, setting off the motion sensor activated lights. The figure was unveiled to be a man, disguised in a hideous clown mask. In one hand he clutched a large Bowie knife. He dragged along with him a panicked teenage girl, jamming the blade against her throat. Her face turned towards the window, pleading for help. The madman turned as well and let out a maniacal laugh that still makes its way through my mind. He had seen me. A primal fury took my body. The girl he held was my girlfriend. Nothing short of death would keep me from protecting her. My muscles tightened and I let out a shout to alert my family to the danger. Except only a small whisper could escape my throat. I grabbed my pocket knife from my dresser and dove from my bed towards the door. But my muscles would not hold my weight. I began to see double. I collapsed onto the hard wooden floor. I'd been drugged. I tried to fight it, or at least call for help, but I could do nothing. I passed out, my eyes still open. I awoke as the sunlight bore down upon my face through one of the four windows in my room. I stood up, feeling sore and weak. The memories of the night before slowly made their way back into my mind. I could barely tell whether they were real or part of a horrifying dream. I gradually made my way down the stairs, where I was met by my family, already done preparing breakfast. They were alive. I told them about what happened. My oldest sister asked, "Wait, you're talking about a dream, right?" I told her I didn't think so, but I couldn't tell. I'd woken up on the floor, far from my bed, but I'd done that before under normal conditions. There was only one way to know for sure. As breakfast ended, I put on my shoes, grabbed my knife, and made my way out back. Autumn had set in and leaves littered the yard. I was drawn towards the forest. I had only made it about twenty yards when I saw her. Her white shirt was drenched with blood, her throat cut deeply. Her hazel eyes had glossed over. Her face was still twisted with fear. I held her body close as tears poured down my face. I kissed her once on the cheek and and once on the lips, knowing it would be the last time. But my mourning did not go undisturbed. From behind a large oak, a set of large black boots appeared. The maniac's laughter pierced my ears and the glint of a blood-stained blade caught my eye. I ran madly, but I was not strong enough, not fast enough to escape him. The drug still had not worn off. He tackled me to the ground. I wrestled to keep the knife away from my body. I tried to take the offensive, parrying the arm that held the knife momentarily and reaching for my enemy's face. He forced my arm away before I could jab his eyes. But I managed to grab the mask. I tore the mask off and cast it aside. It was not a man at all. It was her. It seemed impossible, but I had no explanation, nor time to find one. I accepted the cold reality of the situation. My heart shattered, my will to live evaporated. I stopped fighting. I let the blade sink into my flesh. I let the world fade to black. I let myself die, for the reaper's touch offered the only escape from the sorrowful life before me.